


ichor and fire

by kwritten



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 18:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5427167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwritten/pseuds/kwritten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you know I love you more when you're cold and heartless</p>
            </blockquote>





	ichor and fire

She kills the way he thinks he wants to be loved. Distracted, fluid, sharp. As if it were all meaningless. It's the Matheson in her - she makes killing look effortless. There's a trickle of blood on her temple, the red bringing out the blue of her eyes in a way that makes him feel breathless, he wants to wrap her in a red silk dress, her breasts barely constrained, but she never belonged to a world of silk and lace, he wouldn't like her that way. 

It isn't her blood. 

It never is. 

Her blood lives in her body, under the skin, outside of her beating heart her blood is ichor and ash. He's tasted it on his tongue and he knows. She sheds blood like a lizard sheds it's skin, her body is too big for such a fragile substance, he takes it like an offering and never once believes that it will ever stop pouring. 

(She is endless.)

 

He kills the way she wants to die. Ruthless, eyes wide open, limbs fluid. There is a purpose to it. It's the General in him - everything has a place and every body is a number on a chart. There is a map in his head with little X's for soldiers - the enemy always has more and there is always more to kill. There's a gash on his arm that's crusted over with blood and mud and sweat, he doesn't notice. His body is covered in silver scars that glint in the sun, reminding her that he is as mortal as any other man in the world. 

It's always his blood, dried and cracked but never flowing.

She can feel it pumping beneath her fingertips even when he is a world away. 

His skin is iron, his body pretends to be shaped through fire. The scars prove this. She's never seen him bleed, his body won't allow it. 

 

She bites his lip to prove to herself that his blood can do something other than beat and crust over. 

He bites her lip to suck up her immortality to prove to himself that he will last, that she needs him beside her, that he is strong enough. 

 

One of them will die with a knife to the gut and their blood will spill over the other's hands. That's what keeps them coming back, fucking in the cover of darkness, lips laughing against lips. 

No one is immortal, but for a while they will pretend to be just that. 

 

She kills the way that he thinks he wants to be loved, carelessly and without emotion. He's never been more wrong. He lays beneath her and watches her cool eyes flutter with pleasure and he tells himself that this is better than death and he's never been more correct. 

He loves the way that she wants to kill, a lie to himself but transparent as glass. She's never been more correct. She holds him between her thighs and watches him give in and she tells herself that this is as good as killing and she's never been more wrong.


End file.
